A lost memory

Her fingers were busy typing. Once in a while, she changed the scanned document with a new one. The printer was working at full force. Scanning one paper after another. Things must get done before end of next week, she thought. That's the goal.


Suddenly, she stopped. So abrupt. She looked at the watch. The one at the bottom left of the computer screen. It's 10.45pm. Tired eyes went all alert. Her body stiffed.


She saved her work, grabbed the tudung and ran down the stairs. Two stairs at a go. She took the car keys, opened the door, locked it and ran to the car. She pressed on the gas pedal till it reached the bottom. She went real fast.


Within the longest 5 minutes of her life, she arrived. The premise on the first floor below the bank was dark. The grilled door was pad locked. Her heart sinked. She was terrified. She was really afraid. She cried. She searched along the shoplots. At the parking lots. Nothing. No where to be seen.


She went back to the car, shaking. Shaking hard. She was almost histerical. The only thing she could think was the police. She took one deep breath. Two. Three. Astafirrullah ....


Then, something snapped. She started to laugh. At the same time, tears came running on her cheeks. She started the ignition and drove back home with a lighted heart. This time, it took her the usual 15 minutes to arrive home.


She climbed the stairs and went straight to her son's room. There he was. Sound asleep. Snoring. Saliva on the pillow. The son, whom she had fetched at 9.30pm. The son, whom she had kissed good night and said a du'a during her solat. The son, whom she thought she had lost. Lost in her memory. A lost memory. A memory lost somewhere for a moment.